August 2023 was the bucket year holiday list. My husband Wayne put up his hand and said that he wanted the family to paddle the Yukon River. It was on his “must do before I leave earth” list. I hate it when holidays are phrased like that; how do you counter with “could we consider an all inclusive resort in Mexico instead”? Our last family canoe trip wasn’t a complete success so I had some serious concerns.
My trepidation was real. There were a ton of logistics involved from canoes, equipment, food, where were going to camp, transfers, would we be able to safely cross the infamous Lac La Barge and of course, had I packed enough wine???
To get to Whitehorse, Yukon, it was going to be a 22 hour drive (one way). That is a great deal of “family time” but it went well. The drive was pleasant and I have to say, I enjoyed the changing landscapes, the many stops and the diversity of what Canada offers. A small glitch popped up when we arrived in Fort St. John to find out that that hotel had lost a reservation for one of our rooms despite my reconfirmation. No problem. I could adapt and still remain calm and not take this as a sign of what was to come.
Our second night was a camp ground at Liard Hot Springs. It was gorgeous and I love that our world protects such beauty and it was heavenly to soak in the warm waters after a long drive.
Liard Hot Springs, British Columba, Canada
On day three we arrived in Whitehorse and while I had warned the group that the hotel was a solid 2 1/2 stars, it seemed that the rating was a stretch. Nothing like a return to the 60’s decore and the “off sales” in the lobby certainly attracted a unique clientele but it was central and we could easily roam downtown and explore. Despite the modest hotel review, I was relieved that everyone slept really well.
The following morning we headed to the outfitter to pick up two more canoes and load up the trailer. We were going to transfer to Lac La Barge instead of enduring a 55 km paddle from Whitehorse the lake . It was a flurry and my anxiety levels were rising. It is about this time that my nickname “Flustered Grouse” is used by family. I admit that it is appropriate because I flap around thinking that I am helpful when in fact, I am just flapping. Enough said. We eventually got loaded and were on our way.
We arrived at Lac La Barge and packed up the canoes ready to start the 350 km (217 miles) paddle. It was a ton of gear but we made it fit.
The first part of the trip was cited as the most challenging. Lac La Barge (also known as “Lac La Hell”; famous for its size and the potential for sudden storms to erupt resulting in many a canoe party to fear for safety and take refuge on shore for days at a time). If you are crossing the lake and get caught in a storm, there is a potential for catastrophe. Many a canoe has flipped on the lake. We had to paddle hard our first day but the wind was in our favour and the lake was calm. It was the second day that brought strong winds and the placid lake transformed into what seemed like an ocean with fierce whitecaps. Crossing was going to be a challenge.
We waited until mid day. Although it was battle of the waves on the lake, the sun was shining and we enjoyed a leisurely breakfast on the beach with the sun shining. My husband Wayne is the experienced canoeist and we looked to him to give us guidance as to when we should make a break. He was worried about the lake but came up with the brilliant idea that we tie the canoes together to create a platoon. The idea was further enhanced with using tarps as sails. With two canoes tied together, the crossing was far more stable and less likely that we would tip. We were loaded heavy and my heart skipped many beats with water cascading over the sides of the canoe but we were moving.
Testing the theory of the “sail” before tying up as a platoon
So far so good. We had survived the long drive and the initial crossing of the lake. I knew going into the trip that my insecurities and tendency for overthinking things might get me into trouble but so far, everything was going well. Until it wasn’t.
An age old phenomenon has been to share the magical photos of the coveted perfect family holiday. I wish that was us. Sure we had great moments but somehow I missed the photo op that captured the moment when me and Wayne were paddling hard across that last bit of the lake and Wayne exploding and telling me to “JUST SHUT UP”. Um, I was trying to be helpful and provide some input based on my close to zero experience of navigating large lakes. No need to shout.
And it didn’t stop there. The other photo op that was missed was when I felt I needed to engage him processing why he had such a strong outburst which was followed by more strong language, perhaps a really hurtful comment and ended with me paddling fiercely to shore where I leapt out of the canoe, climbed the bank of the river and yelled down at him “well you can just go F#ck yourself“. If there had been an airport, I would have bought a one way ticket home without a second thought. In reality, this was day 3 on the river and we hadn’t seen another sole on the river so hitching a ride was not an option. I was so mad, I really considered spending the winter there instead of getting back in the canoe. Funny how it is these moments never make the album or the instagram collage…
Family holidays are something to look forward but I have to wonder if it is just our family that has moments of “strain”? Maybe there are reasons why there are no photos; best to hide the evidence should the courts be involved.
To be fair, there was some tension leading up to the trip. I am a compulsive planner with no experience planning multi-day canoe trips and Wayne is an experienced canoeist with years of outdoor experience. It’s just that he does the fun stuff and let’s me do all the shopping and food prep etc. He is content with the bumper sticker “it will all work out”. My bumper sticker reads “planning is an essential part of success”. You see where the worlds might collide.
I spent weeks researching the trip, understanding how to cross the infamous Lac La Barge and in the moments where we were trying to find the outlet to where the lake became the river, I wanted to share my research with Wayne. Honestly, I was trying to be helpful.
Having a tirade on the shores was not helpful and I was trying to figure out who I could trade canoe partners with. Here’s the thing. I knew this moment would come and one of my goals was to work through it. Our last canoe trip saw me avoiding it.
I thought that after 27 years of marriage, we would have the skills to confront what happens when vulnerable moments are right in our face but that isn’t true for us. In our day to day life, we can walk around the tricky issues because “life” keeps us busy. Out in the wilderness, there was no place to hide. I needed to get back in the canoe. This “thing” that has lived between us needed to be addressed. Thankfully, I still had enough wine.
For the next hour, I paddled like a mad woman and silently cursed him for absolutely everything. There was nothing that I didn’t pick him apart for and when I was done, I finally asked him “what did I do that upset you so much”? This was the question that always tries to surface but we shove it under the water hoping not to have to open Pandora’s Box but it was time and one of my goals of the trip. Marriage is built on “for better or worse” and that seemed an easy agreement when we were blissfully in love and unaware of how human hurts stay hidden until the cracks start to form and emotions beg for attention.
We were crossing a large lake and there were some scary moments. The whole group was relying on Wayne to find the river opening despite challenging conditions. He was scared and needing to stay focused and my nitter natter contributions were becoming unnecessary noise that was becoming irritating. My “helpfulness” was only conveying a sense of distrust and he needed me to trust him. And there it was. The crack opened wide.
That was the discussion. Trust. After all these years, why wouldn’t I trust him? And the answer is simple; because the years have brought waves of the unexpected and so many “things” have happened that I have lost trust. Life can throw big rocks without warning or give pause to allow me to find protection. I have come to rely on myself which is where the erosion started. Will he actually look after me or is he tempted to throw me overboard and claim “the waves were so big and suddenly she was gone”! It’s the Yukon; no one would know and of course, no photos to tell.
It is very hard to face demons but we did and it was worth it. We dug in. We got very honest because quite frankly, it had been building and we had everything to gain and nothing to lose. Also, we still had another 200 km and still no other canoes in site or any closer to an airport for evacuation. We stuck it out and paddled on. On that day, we won and from then on, we could laugh as the group kindly dubbed our canoe as the “SS GO FUCK YOURSELF”.
Relationships are hard. And in the world that has emerged since the pandemic, there have been vast changes. In many cases, distancing led to vast separation. At my last “book club” (and by that I mean wine club), we talked about the relationships that we had lost and the pain we feel because of the loss. No one was left unscathed we bare the scars of loss. My friend Nikki wisely said that she feels that in the aftermath what she has come to appreciate is that her world has “reshuffled” and those that have been lost gave way to give room for new relationships. I feel that. Sometimes the river takes people in a different current and maybe we will reconnect when the tides of the river meet again. I hope so but if not, I am ok releasing those who don’t want to be in my canoe. And for the others, I want to do what Wayne had us do and tie our boats together to ensure safe passage through rocky weather.
Wayne and I came through the storm stronger and for that I am grateful. Our family holiday wasn’t “perfect” but it was ideal and it was everything I had hoped for; creating reconnection despite the messiness.
Going forward, I am going to lead with my inconvenient truth and by that I mean that I will admit what lies beneath the surface; “I’m unsure”, “I’m insecure”, “I’m feeling….”. It’s the courage to be honest in hopes of a deeper relationship. I learn more when I am open to feedback rather than being afraid of being “found out” which is nothing more than my armour protecting what I am scared to admit.
And there it is. I will post this unedited. I thought about doing a deep edit but in the spirit of the post, I’m just going to put it out there in the faith that there is something to be said for the beauty of imperfection and how it makes us human and how in the cracks of imperfection, we find room to give grace.
With love,
Shelley
The “kids” + boyfriend and me. XO
And Then I Jumped...... 